


TKG Secret Santa Gift!

by OdoroshiRider



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 02:04:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5521427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OdoroshiRider/pseuds/OdoroshiRider
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nine in the evening on a Wednesday and Kaneki is going to be festive whether he wants to be or not</p>
            </blockquote>





	TKG Secret Santa Gift!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mahoushounenn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoushounenn/gifts).



                It’s nine in the evening on a Wednesday when Kaneki’s phone starts to buzz urgently.

 

                That much would be normal, he supposes, if he had still been in contact with any remaining vestiges of his human life. He’s stopped calling Hide, and Hide’s stopped calling him (he’ll get a text every so often, always the same thing—“how are you?”—but he doesn’t answer anymore). That leaves…who exactly? Nobody at Anteiku really calls him—not at nine in the evening on a Wednesday, anyhow—and he can’t exactly say he has many (or any) friends with which he has any business important enough to call about.

 

                His eyes flick to the number. Not registered.

 

                Peculiar. He considers letting voicemail take it, but at the last second sighs and picks it up. “Hel-” He begins, but his voice is quickly drowned out by the other line.

 

                _“Oh, Kaneki-kun!”_ Kaneki flinches and holds the phone a bit further from his ear at the sudden enthusiastic volume. _“I’m so glad you answered. Tell me—do you have any plans at this very moment?”_ There’s a pause when Kaneki opens his mouth to say he does, if for no other reason than the fact that he isn’t quite interested in the idea of going out at all at nine in the evening on a Wednesday, much less with the particular person on the other line. He is, predictably, cut off. _“Actually, don’t answer that. I know you’re off of work tonight, so don’t try to skip out on me~!”_ Kaneki fights back a sigh. _“En tout cas, I forgot to mention on our earlier outings that I work as a pianist at a local jazz bar, right near where you live.”_ Kaneki isn’t going to ask how this particular person knows both his work schedule and where he lives; he figures he won’t like the answer anyway. _“You have to come and stop by tonight. It’s near Christmas, and of course we’re having a lovely little celebration right now.”_

                When there’s finally a break, Kaneki takes the chance to speak. “Tsukiyama-san, how did you get this number?” He’d never given out his number—or, rather, hadn’t been brave enough to give it out, not to someone with the looks of a high fashion model. “Er…anyway, isn’t it kinda late?” Nine in the evening on a Wednesday is, arguably, not really the optimal time to send out an urgent invitation. “I’m not really sure if I can-”

 

_“Yes, yes, so you’re coming, right Kaneki-kun?”_ Tsukiyama predictably cuts him off again.

                “Tsukiyama-san…did you hear any of that?

_“That’s not an answer!”_

                “I…” Kaneki starts to argue and trails off, not foreseeing himself winning this. “I’ll be there.”

_“Fantastique! I’ll see you in a few moments!”_

                The line goes dead before Kaneki has the chance to speak any further. He sighs through his nostrils, but can’t quite fight a bit of a smile from touching the corners of his mouth. He can’t really decide if all of this is annoying or flattering—or some kind of strange combination of both. Nonetheless, it’s not like he can stand up Tsukiyama of all people…not that he had really given him much of a choice in the matter.

 

                He checks the clock again and it’s nine-o-five in the evening on a Wednesday: plenty of time to walk to the bar, he supposes. He swings open the front door, flinching against the cold air and flecks of snow that blow immediately against him.

 

                He takes a moment to think about whether or not this is worth it, sighs, and starts walking.

 

 

* * *

                By the time he makes it to the front of the bar, his black hair is near completely covered with a layer of snow, and his ears are turned to a bright scarlet. He sniffles, shoving the bar’s door open against the wind.

 

                He looks at the clock on the wall; it’s nine-thirty in the evening on a Wednesday.

 

                (It’s still far too late to be walking around in the snow, but here he is.)

 

                The interior of the bar is, luckily, just cozy enough to begin defrosting Kaneki’s chilled body. The lights are dim against a dark wood interior—barely brighter than the gloom outside, but just light enough for comfort. There is no music just yet—he notices Tsukiyama’s figure chatting with the bartender in his peripheral vision—but the soft chatter of the surprising amount of patrons willing to come to listen to music at this hour accompanied by the gentle crackling of a fire against the far wall creates an ambiance that is far from unpleasant.

 

                He’s still trying to gauge if this is all worth it, but at least the place itself is nice.

 

                Tsukiyama blinks as the overhead bell on the door chimes with Kaneki’s arrival. He quickly looks to the door, smiles wide, and urgently waves Kaneki over.

 

                (Alright, it’s a little bit worth it—Kaneki thinks upon seeing him.)

 

                He’s hard to miss in the largely neutral-colored interior of the bar, dressed in a bright red suit accented by a green tie. Squinting at the tie in particular, Kaneki notices a string of lights sewn into it that flicker on and off every so often. It’s gaudy but…festive, at least. Kaneki is simultaneously caught off guard and not surprised in the least. At this point, he thinks he won’t be surprised if Tsukiyama’s cufflinks play Christmas carols.

 

                “Kaneki-kun, I’m so glad you could make it!” Tsukiyama drapes one arm over Kaneki’s shoulders and places his free hand over his heart. (Kaneki leans one ear toward the cufflinks about his wrist and is a bit disappointed to not hear any carols.) “Tonight is very special, you see. We’re not only celebrating the arrival of the holiday season, but those special people in our lives that keep us warm, even on the coldest of days!” He dramatically extends one arm outward, as if showing some grandiose vision. “Holiday date night! Plus,” He winks and nudges Kaneki with an elbow, “those who bring a date get free drinks.”

 

                Kaneki blinks. “Oh.” His cheeks flush a deep cherry-red. “So…you called so urgently because your date…stood you up last-minute?” It would make sense, far more sense than what he thinks Tsukiyama is implying.

 

                His smile is dazzling as he winks again. “I was afraid my date just might,” he tweaks Kaneki’s nose, “but here you are.”

 

                “Oh. Ok.”

 

                (The smug bastard has him there.)

 

                “Anyway!” Tsukiyama seizes hold of Kaneki’s shoulder and steers him towards the piano at the front of the bar, “now that you’re here, we might as well let the show begin!” He drops into the stool, scoots to one side, and pats the empty space beside him.

 

                Kaneki figures he’s already in a bit too deep, so he seats himself beside Tsukiyama.

 

                And when he plays, the world fades out of Kaneki’s peripheral vision. All he can see is Tsukiyama, and his hands elegantly tapping away at the keys. Music quickly hushes the bar’s idle chatter, replaced by Tsukiyama’s voice drifting out of the piano’s melody in a rich tenor. He sings in French, though Kaneki knows the carol well enough to hum along under his breath.

 

                Noticing that much, one of Tsukiyama’s eyes opens, and the corner of his mouth twitches upward. He lays one arm about Kaneki’s shoulder and continues to play one-handed, singing not outward to the audience, but in Kaneki’s direction—softer, more intimately, as if Kaneki is the only observer.

 

                He switches to Japanese and motions for Kaneki to sing louder.

 

                Kaneki stumbles on his words, taken aback by the sudden attention. He doesn’t quite consider himself much of a musician—especially compared to Tsukiyama. He’s more of a private singer, only humming softly to himself even in the privacy of his own home.

 

                Still, it’s not like he can say no, especially now that he feels the eyes of all of the bar’s patrons on him. He laughs nervously, attempting to join in with Tsukiyama’s voice.

 

                Tsukiyama, in turn, shifts to harmonies, lets their voices blend together seamlessly. He sways gently along in time with the music, guiding Kaneki along with the arm still wrapped about him.

 

                As the last note of the song fades out, Tsukiyama guides Kaneki’s head down onto his shoulder. Lips press gently against his forehead. “Merry Christmas, Kaneki-kun.” The words can just barely be heard over the music’s denouement.

 

                Kaneki looks briefly to the clock on the wall again; it’s ten in the evening on a Wednesday. He supposes that he can spare a bit more time.

**Author's Note:**

> super cheesy, super fluffy, idk i did my best


End file.
